


with love interwoven

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How do you tag things here akdhwjhdhs, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Sengoku period, Warlord!oikawa, daimyō!Oikawa, mild violence, minor but major but kinda minor yet major???, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 11:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25470076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: the lord, his lover, and a war stretched out in between.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26
Collections: Anonymous





	with love interwoven

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from my tumblr

**You met on the first of spring.**

Threaded with winter’s vestiges and a promise of warmth is the gentle spirit of spring. Usually, the blossom’s kiss is timid upon the maiden’s skin while the fleeting breeze passes the huntsman’s trail; the butterfly’s flutter and bird’s song would greet the air, with the uplifting of children’s laughter. Though in the midst of war, it is but a kind sorrow. 

Amongst the fallen cherry petals are the ghosts of corpses fresh from the night before. Wildflowers rise with the young man’s thirst for vengeance while a new widow mourns.

──and thus, another spring day bud blooms with dried blood painting its petals. 

It was fragile. 

With the pink petal pressed between your fingers, your thumb brushed against it, caressing the blood-stained blossom. The petal itself felt like a thin, heavy silk crepe. Like crinkled fabric made by weft threads, the flower was withering. It still withheld its form but with what’s endured, it would surely wilt by the next wind. 

You’re about to pull your hand away to head back to town but another hand comes and picks the flower off its branch. You watch calloused, lithe fingers hold the flower in between the index and thumb. As the arm lowers, your gaze follows suit until it nears you. You take a few steps back to leave but you falter at the tickle at the lobe of your ear. A thumb pushes your hair behind your ear as the flower’s tucked behind it. 

“Beautiful.”

Your gaze peers from the sight of the retracting hand to the most alluring man your eyes have ever bestowed. He stands before you with the fluffiest─severely tempting to touch─brown hair swept outwards, irises with a matching hue and surreptitious honey glint. His smile is easygoing and kind, it’s hard to tell whether they reach his eyes or not. 

“It is,” you choose to say. It didn’t take a genius the compliment didn’t imply for the flower alone. You would’ve thanked him with a simple nod, brushing off another off-handed compliment but the garments he wore had you keening to know more. 

“Of course,” he laughed, it then faded into another smile. “but you’re much more.” 

“I give you my thanks.” 

To be hit on in the midst of war was a fairly likely circumstance, but to be hit on by a warlord wasn’t. Standing before you is a man with smooth brown hair and an easy smile, dressed in armor with gold, turquoise, and crimson accents.

“Are you from the capital?” he inquired with a brow quirked up. 

You nod, “yes, it is where i work.” Your reply is curt, and tone polite before you speak again. 

“How about you?” ─ _ no, he’s not.  _

“No,” he waved his hands to dismiss the question. “I’m just on my way to pay a visit.” ─ _ to the shogun.  _

“Ah, I see,” you mumbled, turning to face the city in the distance for a moment before turning back to face him. “I hope you enjoy your stay when you get there.”

You bow for a moment, then two, before raising your torso back up. “Though may i come with you? I’m not yet very well acquainted with Kyoto.” it’s an easy lie, but you comply with a grin. 

“Of course.” 

The walk back to the town wasn’t long, nor short. In the time you spent walking by the slightly smokey trail of cherry blossoms, a conversation ensued. It was more one-sided though; he asked you questions about what Kyoto was like, where you worked, what your work was, how was being a seamstress like, your favorite food, and your replies were curt and humble. 

The moment you entered the town, the mass’ stares at the armored male were far from subtle. Some women giggled while men quivered seeing him pass by. You couldn’t blame them though; to see a ─ drop-dead attractive ─ warlord in the flesh outside of the battlefield was a surprise. They were the cause of the cycle of peace and war after all. They were the reasons as to why the spring air was of gunsmoke and petals. 

Even so, the man still held his chin up high and went on talking with you about how the town was a lively place. 

Once you reached the area outside your store, you were ready to bid him farewell until he asked if he could stay over and watch you work. Another odd request, but again, you complied. 

Settling down on the wooden porch and in front of the weaving loom, he sat a mere few feet away from you, leaning against one of the porch’s pillars. 

Amidst the sea of the townsfolk were the occasional mercenaries and merchants passing by; some to make a profit while others relish in the transient peace the capital provided. You often saw those men from the comfort of your store’s wooden porch. Some would shoot a coy wink while others let out a not-so-subtle wolf whistle. You were used to the stares but now, it felt like the attention doubled. 

Despite so, you went on and continued with the loom and speaking with the male sitting next to you. Your eyes and touch were fixated on the threads while ears and tongue on the lord. 

From the morning till dusk, you worked with threads of cotton and silk on the weaving loom. While on the night, you took out the spindle wheel to weave a gentle melody. Lithe fingers handled the delicate strings that formed patterns upon woven textiles, the cloths were sewn into garments by the design of your touch. 

Every day, on the same porch you’d repeat the routine; weave and sew, cut and embroider. 

For a moment, he stopped talking and just stared at you work. Tentative amber hues watched every movement. From the lift of various string, seeing you intertwine and form them into the part of a garment, he’s entranced. 

“You’re quite skilled.” 

“Thank you.” You don’t look at him, rather your focus is unwavered as you nod. 

“Do you do this every day?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you enjoy it?” 

“Of course.” 

“Who do you make these garments for?”

A pause. You clutch onto the scissors tight. 

The male quirks a brow, opening his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. 

“My clients.” 

“Hmm,” he hums and shifts closer to you, inspecting the fabric you continue to cut and sew. 

He watches your hands move, thumb tracing the edges of the silk on your hand. It appears to be light on your hand, sublime upon the skin. You handle it with care. Your movements are lithe and gentle crafting the newly woven fabric into a garment. 

“Could I be one of them?” he asks. “─your clients, I mean.”

You pause yet again; only this time, you look up from the Chirimen to look him in the eye. 

And  _ again _ , his gaze is gentle, genuine. You search for any ill intent only to find sincerity and a tinge of childish excitement. 

What an odd man. 

You then nod, laying the scissors and fabric on your lap. “That can be arranged.” 

Then comes a brighter grin that soon fades back into his neutral expression to maintain his composure. Cute. 

“Though, I’m going to need your name.” 

“Tooru.” 

He responds almost immediately.

“Tooru? Oikawa tooru?” A brow hitches. You pick up the needle and thread to continue sewing as you speak. “The demon king of the east? ” 

You don’t miss the look of surprise that passes his eyes. So you were right. 

“I see it has been laid bare.” He chuckles, figuring there was no use of putting up a lie. 

“It wasn’t far too hard to tell, my lord.”  You crack a smile, almost piercing your finger with the needle. 

“What gave it away?” 

“My devilishly symbolic good looks? An aura that of a king?”

“Your battle armor, my lord.” You chide. 

“Oh…”

“Still, i wouldn’t see the issue in making you a robe,” you state. “One fit for a king, at that.” 

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you.” 

“But certainly…” you trail off. “A man of your prowess must be busy,” you hum, an easy smile rests on your features as you cut the fabric on hand in half. 

“Well, here I am,” he says. “In no rush whatsoever, my lady.”

_ “SHITTYKAWA.” _

“Ah.”

The timing and look of disdain (plus a tinge of fear you took notice of from his shoulder twitching) make you chuckle. 

Another male comes by. He’s dressed in battle armor with similar accents as well. He doesn’t step into the porch but stands in front with a scowl on his face. 

“My lord,” the man cleared his throat before speaking again. “We’ll be late for the palace. The shogun is not a patient man.” 

Oikawa merely sighs, the easy smile on his face not faltering. He places his palm down behind him and leans against his shoulder, neck craning back to peer at the samurai. “And clearly neither are you, Iwa-chan.”

“It is your responsibility to be punctual before the shogun,” ‘Iwa-chan’ scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Especially when you are at his graces  _ for now _ .” 

Oikawa opens his mouth to reply but stops seeing the other man’s eyes then narrow at him with a glare 一 you swear there’s a small wrinkle right at top of his forehead. Oikawa doesn’t budge until the samurai’s glare intensifies, sending a shudder down both you and the warlord. 

Quickly, Oikawa scrambles to his feet and puts his shoes back on before leaving the porch. He turns to you offering a guilty smile and you accept it. 

“Sorry to leave so soon my lady,” he bows his head. “For now, this is goodbye but i hope to see you again someday soon.”

You let the fabric from your lap down and stand up. “Thank you for your visit,” you say, bowing at him in return. “I hope to see you some time soon as well.”

You know it’s unlikely. He’s a warlord from another territory and bumping into him another time, having tea and idle chatter while you worked another time was unlikely. Though by when your head is raised, he turns around and the samurai does the same until quickly, he turns to you again. 

“If it is not too much to ask,” Oikawa begins. “Might I know your name, my lady?” 

“Oh.” That, you weren’t expecting. A final pickup line as a farewell was one, maybe a signature wink, or perhaps even a request to his order. But your name─ 

“L/n. L/n Y/n.” 

“Mhm,” Oikawa hummed at your response. You waited for him to turn around again and finally leave but again, he smiles and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Beautiful.”   


* * *

**It was true.**

He kept his word and saw you again, more times than you anticipated on that note. 

By sunset the same day, he stopped by and bid you another farewell. A few days later, he dropped by early morning and sat down next to you on your porch to talk and have tea. It would only last for a few hours though, due to Iwaizumi ─ one of his samurai generals ─ dragging him away. Around a week later, he came back dressed in his kimono alone. No armor, just him with a smile and sheathed sword ready to watch you sew. 

By his fourth visit another week later, Oikawa made himself apart of your schedule. Some days, he’d tell you stories about battles he fought, on others he’d bring you to the town’s market place and shower you in simple riches and tokens of affection. Then on some afternoons, ones he promised to you mere hours due to having to leave for the battle for the next few days, you’d sit in silence on your porch. While you worked on a garment, he’d lean on your shoulder and rest his eyes. 

Just as he easily slithered himself into your life, they were spontaneous. It was a given that the little paradise you found in his smile wasn’t going to be a daily occurrence. The first few ones were more frequent but after his seventh visit followed three weeks of silence. 

You figured he had gotten bored and brushed you off to pursue expending his territory; it was only natural that he would. Though to your surprise came a letter delivered by a soldier. 

In the scroll read an apology and promise. He wrote to you about how he had formed an alliance with the Kuroo clan and pursued for further territory with the power of the alliance. With the latter note that he had won the battle, the warlord promised he’d return in a few days. 

Again, he stayed true to his promise. 

He came back with tea leaves he received from his ally as a gift. You brewed it and while at work on the loom, you exchanged stories with one another. The brunette bragged a little on how he “single-handedly” crushed the enemy’s army  _ and _ even assisted his new ally. 

There was a smug smirk on his face as he awaited your praise, only to be dejected when you asked what his ally was like. He pouted and whined, simply answering you saying that the ‘Stupid Kuroo’ was a mere scheming street kitten. You laughed and so did he. Thus before you knew it, Iwaizumi came by saying they had to leave. 

As per usual, Oikawa complained a little, telling Iwaizumi he could leave on his own. Iwaizumi then threatened to do so, taking Oikawa’s horse with him and that’s what had the lord getting up, heaving a heavy sigh. 

You stood up as well to bow and bid him and Iwaizumi a safe trip back. Before you could do so, Oikawa captured your chin with his fingers and your lips with his. 

By the end of spring, you shared your first kiss. 

It was warm and sweet. Nothing entirely euphoric but still, sweet. When you returned the kiss, he smiled into it before parting away. 

Leaving you with a muted blush, he put on his shoes and waved you goodbye. Iwaizumi, with ears and his neck searing beet-red, only scolded Oikawa for doing something so revolting in front of him while walking away. 


End file.
